


If That’s What It Takes

by MelLovesWriting



Category: Original Work
Genre: Background Character in Another Story/ies, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, It Gets Better, Medical, Original Universe, Relationship Trouble, Repressed Memories, Slow Build, Stand Alone, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelLovesWriting/pseuds/MelLovesWriting
Summary: To be human is to hold immeasurable capacity.For cruelty.Fear.Pain.Enough to drown in.





	1. Chapter 1

Stepping down is a deceptively simple process; by the end of the day I am numb with the news:

“This is Noah, I’m taking a leave of absence and he’ll be taking over from me for a while. Why? Well…”

But I can’t tell them why; I can’t tell them that everywhere I turn someone is afraid of me. That I’ve been coming home with fear hanging off me like a shroud of spider web ready to catch anyone who gets close enough. That now I’m the one who’s afraid, afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid to touch you, afraid to make you afraid.

You caught me in time.

I can’t count the times you’ve stepped back without letting go. How you listen and hear everything I don’t say.

So here I am; it’s my turn to listen to you.

~

I was watching you fall. 

Every day you would look at me from further off; you’re stronger than me, if you pulled away I don’t know what I’d do.

So I moved closer, gentler, quieter. 

You needed me? Here I am. I can be the strong one. 

If that’s what it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on this platform, I hope you will receive it kindly. 
> 
> I've included the slow build tag as it's set in my own universe/timeline that I've done SO much worldbuilding for, but including every detail would be clunky and awkward. 
> 
> All will be revealed in time; I'd greatly appreciate you staying long enough to see.
> 
> Mel x


	2. Chapter 2

WE BOTH LOVE THE THEATRE and we had been waiting for years for this particular show to reach Broadway. It was meant to be a red-letter day for us both; to enjoy something we’ve shared, that we’ve waited for together, but instead the distance between us sits leaden. 

As the story builds a lump grows in my chest; the protagonist sinks deeper into a work that is slowly destroying him, his wife tries to walk alongside him asking him not to let who he is and their relationship fall to the wayside. I can hear myself in her voice and hearing her sing about loss and uncertainty is devastating.

“My solitary love,  
Though you’ve lost your shining light  
You’re still who I’m dreaming of  
Let me help you make it right.

I reach and you are gone  
And I question where we’ll go  
We’re divided now  
And I have lost the man I know”

It’s us. It’s our story, and I hate it.

~

Jessica’s hands clench and unclench in the dark. We’ve listened to these songs together for as long as we’ve known each other, but sat in the same tiny space fighting not to touch the lyrics are hitting differently and by the eleven o’clock number Jessica has dropped her head forward and is crying quietly.

Everything she’s told me over and over again burns accusingly in my head as we drive home. She leans against her window in silence.

This isn’t how things should be.

“Jessica?”

~

He spoke to me? He said my name.

First I’m confused, then frustrated at my confusion; of course he should speak to me, we just spent the evening together!

But, how long has it been since we even seemed to be in a relationship? A month? Two? I realise how much I don’t want him to say what we both know. That we waited to long; we can’t get back what we had. My skin prickles; I know by now this is a warning: calm down or lose control. I force my breathing to become slow and deliberate. 

What’s real? Focus on what’s real.

It’s dark outside.

My feet are cold.

“What is it, Peter?”

The seatbelt is digging into my neck.

My theatre programme crackles faintly as I run my hand over it.

Peter sighs, “Do you feel like everything’s wrong?”

Yes.

“Don’t do this.”

His voice lowers a note, “You kept asking me to get help.”

“I want you to be ok.”

“What about us?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t know what you’re thinking, I don’t know what your going to say next and I don’t know what to do.

We drive in silence for a while. The window is too cold to lean on any longer and when I sit up Peter is tapping the steering wheel restlessly. My throat starts to tighten.

I can’t take anymore of this.

“Peter, tell me what you’re thinking.” I practically beg, my voice breaking, “You just said that you feel everything’s wrong; that’s so overwhelming, please say something!” 

He glances over, concerned, “Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?”

I take a deep breath, there’s no point in trying to hide the fact that I’m shaking, “Please just talk to me.”


End file.
